Red
by thenostalgicdreamer
Summary: An art assignment gets Dez reflecting on the color his bright world is missing. New chapter posted!
1. Red

Dez Wade couldn't remember a time he didn't like art. From the time he could hold a crayon, he had been coloring and drawing. When he was growing up, the Wade fridge had always been covered from top to bottom with his drawings. He was a happy-go-lucky kid, and art was his outlet. With art, he could recreate his happy world. He could share the colors of his life and imagination with others. He had always thought that he would be an artist when he grew up. That was until he looked through the viewfinder of his first video camera. It was then that he fell in love with film. It was like drawing and painting, but even better. Film was art come alive with sound and movement that allowed him to share the many colors of his life with others. Dez knew he would be a filmmaker, but he would never forget his first love which was why he was sitting in art class at Marino High that November afternoon.

"Okay that's enough talk about color," he heard Mrs. Sherick say at the end of class. "It's time for you to apply what you have learned. You will each grab slip of paper with a color on it as you walk out the door. For your next project, you will create a pencil drawing that represents what that color means to you. Your assignment over the weekend is to brainstorm about your color and decide on something to begin drawing in the next class period."

The bell rang, and Dez eagerly grabbed his backpack and headed for the door. He couldn't wait to see what color he would get. He grabbed his slip of paper from green mesh basket and read it as quickly as he could. It said "red". He couldn't be more excited to see it. Red was such a powerful color with so much personality.

Dez heard someone coming up behind him as he hurried down the hallway to his next class. He turned around and saw that it was Dylan the guy who sat next to him in art class.

"Oh, hey," Dylan called out eagerly. "What'd you get?"

"Red." Dez replied.

"Oh, you lucky ducky. You have so many possibilities. You could do lava or fire engines or apples or even your hair. My color is boring old brown." Dylan replied jealously.

"Well, I'm not sure what I'll do yet. I want it to be just right." Dez countered. "Art matters, you know. I've got to feel this, and I haven't yet."

Dez was not one for doing homework on Saturday afternoon or anytime really unless you were talking about art homework. However, this assignment had already gotten more puzzling the more he had thought about it since his conversation with Dylan the day before. He just wasn't feeling inspired. The assignment felt important, and Dez was afraid that he would mess it up somehow. It wasn't an issue of the grade—Mrs. Sherick graded mostly based on effort, and Dez always applied himself in art class. The problem was that Dez loved color. He knew that colors existed not just for utilitarian purposes. Colors had personalities and could communicate deep concepts and emotions. Dez owned clothes in practically every color not to make a fashion statement but rather to be sure that he always had something to wear that matched how he was feeling. _This is getting frustrating, _Dez thought. It was the most exciting assignment of the semester so far, and he didn't even know where to start.

Dez could think of many examples of red things—sunsets, old fashioned appliances, cars, tomatoes, and many more, but none of them really said red to him. Red was more than just the sum of the red objects on the planet. He grabbed his art binder and picked up his mechanical pencil. He wanted to feel this assignment not just stumble his way through it, and none of his examples so far had fit. He would start with what red meant to him. _What is red? _he thought. He began writing in his sloppy Dez script… _Red is strong and confident_. _It is passionate and independent and at times intense and defiant._

_Wow, _he thought as he wrote his definition of red, _that sounds like a person. _Who did he know that was like red? _Carrie? No. Austin? Nope. Ally? She could hardly be farther from it. Didi? Um…No, her hair was the most "red" part of her. _

_Trish? Well, maybe, _he thought. Trish mostly dressed in hot pink and zebra print, but she wasn't the pink type really. He thought back to the first day they had met in Austin's room. It was her strength and confidence that had impressed him. She had shown up in a magician's outfit complete with a tuxedo with coattails and a red bow tie, and she had poked the boy she had just met with a magic shocker finger. Just weeks later, she had let him teach her a dance routine, and she had totally rocked it in front of Austin and Ally. She wasn't afraid of the many important things that she had to do as Austin's manager. Calling big shot executives, no problem. Pretending to be Ally at an interview, bring it on. Lead role in the school play, she'd rock it. Yes, Trish had confidence and strength like no other girl Dez had ever met.

She was also passionate about the things that mattered to her. To the casual observer, Trish seemed lazy because she didn't hold a job, but Dez knew differently. She went from job to job to job because she didn't care about those jobs. She knew that down the road she would need to hold a job, but for now she enjoyed the unexpected adventures she could have on her long breaks and when she was in between jobs. When it came to Team Austin, she was on board one hundred percent. Team Austin was first, and she did everything in her power to make their dreams come true. Her hard work was maybe not as visible as Ally's contributions, but it was just as important. Then, he thought about the other passion that they shared—Zaliens. Trish was almost as big of a fan as he was. She was ready to do anything that had to do with Zaliens regardless of how silly or unusual it was. It was on their Zalien adventures—making a fan movie, going to the movies, and attending the convention—that they finally got over their personality differences and became friends. Yes, Trish was definitely passionate.

They would have been best friends except for the fact that Trish was also strongly independent. She liked having friends, but she didn't want to feel like she needed them. She could conquer the world on her own. To preserve her independence, she put up boundaries. The problem was that Dez couldn't really tell where they were, and it seemed like he was somehow always crossing them. And Trish was not pretty when her boundaries were crossed. Her fire came out—she was intense and defiant. He couldn't count how many times she had threatened him with bodily harm or insulted him after he made what he had thought was just a friendly gesture. He had to look no further than the time a few weeks ago when she had threatened to tear off his arm when he told her how happy he was that he had met her.

The more he had seen of her the more he had been impressed with her. Her no-nonsense passionate attitude and confidence were inspiring to him. Dez often underestimated himself, and he found that Trish's little complements meant more to him than he would have thought. One day, he suddenly realized that Trish's redness complemented him. They could be a team—she could be…his Trish. He quietly began exploring to see if she would be open to the possibility. For a time, he had kept hoping that if he was persistent she would realize that she wanted him too. But one day, his hopes were dashed. He had struggled to hide his disappointment when she announced that she was dating Jace. Jace was a nice guy, and Dez wanted more than anything to be happy for her. But it was hard for him to be when the president had the first lady, Austin had Ally, but he did not have his Trish.

From then on, Trish's insults felt like she was taunting him. It was then that he had decided that he had had enough with the intensity and defiant attitude. He would forget her and find a girl who would never hurt him. He had met Carrie, and she had fit the bill. She was bright, happy, random, and innocent. Best of all, she needed him. And they had lived happily ever after.

Well, not really—Dez suddenly could see that he was unhappy and had been for a long time. There had been so many colors in his rainbow that he hadn't realized that one was missing. His world was missing something—it was missing red. Dez didn't need a bright little happy green girl. He needed red—he needed the confidence, strength, passion, and yes, even the intensity, independence, and defiance. He needed Trish.

Dez picked up his pencil. He could see the entire drawing in his head—Trish in a beautiful red dress in the center of a colorful ballroom and him standing in the shadows taking in the red his world was missing. Best of all, he finally had discovered what he never knew he needed.


	2. Alive

_Dez walks up to a random table of a small cafe where a girl sits reading a book._  
><em>Dez: Oooh, awesome book you've got there. I love the Zaliens Apocalypse trilogy. They've got to be up there with the movies. It's so epic at the end when the zaliens are ready to suck his brain and…"<em>  
><em>Girl (annoyed): Stop right there. I don't want to know the ending. Go away. Can't you see that I'm reading?<em>  
><em>Dez (smiling): You seem cool. Want to go out with me?<em>  
><em>Girl: Why would I want to go out with you?<em>  
><em>Dez (winking at her and flopping his hair to one side): Can't you see? I've got <em>awesome_ hair._

Dez smiled as he finished writing the dialogue to a scene to for his web series _Ginger Gaffes_. His day job directing commercials for a denture company paid the bills, but it didn't satisfy his need for a creative outlet. So evenings and weekends found him working on his web series. He had posted the first video just for fun, but it had really taken off. Apparently, his off-the-wall sense of humor _was_ good for something. Recently, he had been remembering his crazy antics during his first attempt to get a girlfriend when he was in high school and had thought that it would be the perfect material for his next video. Unfortunately, he didn't know where to go with the script after writing that one scene. He just felt bored and uninspired.

"Time for a break," he thought. He glanced over at his extremely messy desk. It was supposed to be the office space where he could work on his creative projects, but it ended up being more like a glorified file cabinet. Perhaps cleaning it off would help him feel more inspired. He began sorting through the papers stacked on it almost a foot high.

As he began working on his desk, the drawing hanging above it caught his eye. It was not any drawing, but "Red", a piece he had created during a very important moment of his life ten years ago. It never failed to capture his attention. Trish's beauty even in the imperfect form of a drawing was enough to take his breath away, but the rough pencil lines that made up her figure reminded him of something even more awe-inspiring than her beauty—the person she was on the inside. He felt his heartbeat quicken as the emotions of that moment of realization so long ago hit him again in full force.

He still believed that he needed Trish in his life, but his life otherwise looked way different from what he imagined during that life-changing moment so long ago. Instead of life by her side, he had experienced years of heartbreak and pain. It had been years since he had last seen her. He thought of her every _single_ day wondering when he'd see her again. He'd never imagined missing her insults, but he found himself yearning to hear her call him doof again. Desperate to hear her voice, he watched the short films she'd acted in over and over until all of her short lines were written on his heart. And every night, he walked out to the parking lot of his apartment and wished on the North Star that someday Trish would be his girl. On the nights that clouds covered the sky, he found himself crying at the thought that the storms of life would always separate him from his shining star.

He felt something hard in the pile and lifted papers that covered it."Oh, there's the team Austin scrapbook," he thought as he pulled a small book from the pile. He opened it and glanced through the worn pages. Picture after picture, page after page telling the story of a time he now looked back on as the happiest one of his life—the time he'd spent with the woman he loved.

Even more than the past, he missed a future that looked more uncertain every day. He could just picture himself standing up at the front of a large cathedral in his orange tux watching Trish walk towards him in a beautiful lace dress. He almost felt like he knew the little girl they would name Esmeralda. He could see her shiny curls and chocolate brown eyes as deep and passionate as her mother's. He could imagine teaching her to dance and sing, draw and paint. Best of all, she'd be his little princess. More than once, he had tried to draw the picture in his head of the cathedral day, but he always ended up with nothing more than picturesque cathedral scene with an empty spot in the middle. Perhaps he would never see it outside his head.

A loud electronic ping interrupted Dez from the quietness of his swirling thoughts. It took him a minute to come to his senses and realize what in the world made that sound. He walked over to his phone and picked it up. He stared at it in shock when he read the sender's name—Trish.

The message simply said _Are you busy this weekend? I want to call._

"Yeah, that clears the waters a lot!" he thought to himself. He honestly didn't know what to think. All he knew was that she didn't call for no reason. Without a doubt, she had big news to share. As thrilled as he was that she wanted to share her news with him, he was scared about what that news might be.

During their last year of high school, Dez thought for sure that their shared single status meant that he and Trish would finally become a couple. For a time, it seemed that he was right. They had both ended up attending college in LA and had gotten quite close. Dez slowly began working up to asking her out, moving cautiously in fear of permanently getting on her bad side. Sophomore year, he thought that the time had finally come to tell her what had been on his heart for so long. Before he could do that, she had come to him with some big news. He been convinced that she was going to tell him the words that would make his confession easy. Instead, she announced that she had met a guy—Jackson Bronsky. Dez had thought for sure that the relationship wouldn't work; it just couldn't. Unlike what Dez had imagined, though, Jackson was not a creepy serial killer. He was actually a nice guy who was everything Dez would never be—both intelligent and tall, dark and handsome. Dez couldn't see how a nerdy premed student could be impressed by someone as relaxed as Trish, but somehow it worked. Maybe her smile broke up the drudgery of his intense studies or something. Whatever the reason, the relationship had lasted—six years now.

Since Trish and Jackson had gotten together, Dez had known that his dreams were hanging by a thread. Jackson was in it for the long game; sooner or later he would propose to the only girl Dez had truly wanted. That was it—it had to be why Trish wanted to call. What else could she have to say?

_Trish and Jackson were engaged to be married_. With that thought, Dez felt like the light of his life had turned off. _Trish was marrying someone else. She'd never be his. She was gone, and he was…forever alone._ The tears came to his eyes, and he crumbled to the ground. He felt like some invisible villain had struck him with a death blow. As he lay there on his bedroom floor, his entire life felt empty and pointless. Like he'd told everyone before he left Miami to be with Carrie, what was the point of everything without love? He sat up and found himself grabbing the Team Austin scrapbook. As he flipped through the pages, he remembered Trish—her passion for life, her confidence, her strength. But thinking of what she was just made everything worse. Grabbing the cover of the book, he had a sudden urge to tear it to shreds, but he found he couldn't bring himself to destroy something that she had made with her own hands. The book dropped out of his shaking hands to floor with a thud. He gave it a hard shove across the floor; he never wanted to see those pictures again.

"Trish, oh, Trish," he sobbed. "You might not know it, but I loved you. I love you."

He went over to his bed and collapsed onto it in a flood of tears. After what felt like years of agony, he dried up his tears and got up and wandered into the living room. He turned off the light and settled on the couch. Around him, everything was dark and still.

* * *

><p>Dez opened his eyes and looked around. He must have fallen asleep while sitting in the dark living room the night before. He felt older than his twenty-six years and tired despite the long hours that sleep had claimed him. It was as if his heart and brain had been working frantically all night trying to process the idea of Trish's engagement. The bright morning light was familiar, but he felt so different. Instead of being excited about a new day, he felt calm and quiet. The silence of his apartment sounded to him like a million voices that were shouting and wouldn't shut up.<p>

Everything just felt so muddled somehow. He felt confused rather than just hurt. Looking back on it now, he wondered why he had told himself that he needed her. By just ignoring his feelings, he could have avoided the years of pain and the agony that he felt right now. The truth was that he h_ad_ lived without her for many years and could continue to do so. Why did he have to care so much? Why couldn't he just be an emotionless but stable robot?

To be honest, Dez couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been emotional and sensitive. His whole childhood been a series of highs and lows. He could still remember how elated he had felt when his drawing had won first place in an art contest at school. He never forgot the happiness he felt the day he had met Austin. Along with the happy times, he had also suffered grave disappointments. He could still remember the day that the frog that he caught in his backyard died. And then there was the time in first grade little Maddie S. put the love letter he wrote her back on his desk without reading it. After that blow, he had done what he always did—go running to his mom. They had a long talk, and she had reassured him that everything would be alright and that disappointments were just part of life. And he had always bounced back.

For the first time, he was doubting the wisdom of caring so much. Maybe he had always bounced back when he was boy, but would he now? It had been ten years of investment-wasted. He didn't know if he could handle that. How could he have been so stupid? If he became too disillusioned, he knew he would just quit his job and move back to Miami to live with his parents. That would make him feel so defeated that he would believe he could never make anything out his life. All that could have been avoided if he had only turned his back on his feelings for Trish.

Deep down though, he knew that he hadn't been wrong to care. Without investing his heart, he never would have been inspired to create the art that allowed him to share his life with others. He wouldn't be close to his sister, his parents, to Austin and Ally, and yes, to Trish. He knew that he was right in saying that without love life is pointless. But he could see now that it wasn't an issue of being with Trish or not being with her. The question was whether caring is worth the risk. As he sat there pondering the all important question, the words of the heroine from his favorite unrequited love movie came to his mind. No matter what the outcome, love is never to be regretted because to love is to be alive. Pain and sadness shouldn't make him change his mind. Caring is worth the risk. Maybe he did need Trish, maybe she wouldn't marry Jackson, maybe she would. But regardless of the consequences, he would chose to care-he would chose to live. And he would write that script because other people needed to hear it too. Investing your heart is worth the risk because when you hold back you can't truly live.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I honestly wasn't planning on continuing "Red", but then this happened. This story is my baby, so I spent a bit of time trying to get this chapter just right. I hope it is worth the wait and that you enjoy reading heartbroken Dez as much as I love writing him. I'd love to know what you think.<strong>


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